


Chime

by Stairre



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Crush, Awkward Romance, Background dystopic society, Don't copy to another site, Grey-Asexual Character, I wrote this instead of writing what I was supposed to be writing, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, M/M, Pre-Canon, Soundwave frantically googling: is following someone around silently from a distance romance?, Stalking, Telepathy, Tired Dad Ravage, but I promise it's the light-hearted done-for-humour type, it's pre-war Cybertron guys you know what that means, to be safe I'm going to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stairre/pseuds/Stairre
Summary: “Soundwave’s got his first crush,” is what Ravage opens with when the comm call to Laserbeak and Buzzsaw connects.“Oh?” Buzzsaw chitters. “Tell us more!”---Or: Hot Rod's mind is uniquely beautiful, Soundwave is enthralled, and Tired Cat Dad Ravage plays matchmaker because he's only so patient, and Hot Rod's a sweet thing, actually.
Relationships: Hot Rod/Soundwave (Transformers), Ravage & Laserbeak & Buzzsaw, Ravage & Soundwave (Transformers)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 118





	Chime

**Chime**

–

Ravage huffs as Soundwave turns his head once more to the north-east. “Okay, that’s it,” he says. “What’s the matter?”

They’re in the old city of Nyon, a battered wreck of a place despised by the Functionists since time immemorial. Soundwave is following up on an underworld lead for a politician he’s already planning on betraying, and is being both distracting and distracted.

He looks down at Ravage, knowing that behind the gruffness lies earnest concern. Ravage and Buzzsaw and Laserbeak are pretty much the best things to have ever happened to him, and their small little non-traditional family unit is something Soundwave would give anything, _do_ anything, to keep.

“I hear… a… chiming,” Soundwave tries to explain, knowing that he’s not doing it well, but trying anyway. Words aren’t his forte, too cumbersome and dull and confined next to the colours and sounds and flavours of minds. And the mecha of Nyon have minds that are _bright –_ Soundwave hears them think in words that are illegal and outlawed, bigger and more open than the clipped syllables of Neo-Cybex, and while he may not know the words themselves, the meanings and connotations and symbolism is clear in their minds, and drinking it in only means he wants _more._

“A chiming,” Ravage repeats flatly.

“A mind,” Soundwave clarifies. “It is… beautiful.” He turns again to face the north-east, knowing that somewhere in that quadrant of Nyon, someone with a truly mesmerising mind is living their life. Soundwave has been distracted by them since they came into his range.

Ravage sighs. “Well, we won’t meet them if we stand around here,” he says, padding along the edge of the pavement by Soundwave’s side, lifting his head to peer into shop windows, catching that far fewer of them have the _No Beastformers Allowed_ sign on their doors than he’s used to. Huh. Maybe Nyon _isn’t_ so bad, after all – the Functionists must hate it for a reason, right?

“What?” Soundwave asks, brought up short. They turn the corner and emerge into a plaza. The musicians in the middle playing their tunes and the dancers twirling around them would usually captivate Soundwave, and a part of him is a little regretful that he’s not getting their full effect, but – that _mind._ Its melodies are calling him, clear like bells through the hubbub of the plaza, urging him to go find it.

“You want to meet them, right?” Ravage asks, though it isn’t really asking when both of them know the answer. “Or at least watch them from a distance for some unspecified amount of time. So let’s go. Our lead isn’t going to show his face ‘til the night-cycle anyway.”

Soundwave smiles. Even though it’s hidden behind his mask, he knows that Ravage senses it.

–

The mind turns out to belong to an entertainer dancing in a seedy bar in the shadow of one of the racing stadiums. He’s small, is Soundwave’s second thought. His first thought is _bright._

The mech is a wonderful fiery colour – red and orange and golden yellow, with detailing mimicking flames on his chest, and blue optics that are the exact shade as paintings in temples, the colour they call _Matrix blue._ He’s not a minibot – not nearly stocky enough for that, and a little bit too tall besides – but he’s definitely short, light-weight, and _gorgeous._

Soundwave barely pays attention to frame aesthetics – when one is privy to the beauty of minds, frames fall distinctly by the wayside. He’s seen high-caste mecha with frame modifications to follow all the latest fashion trends and found them ugly because their thoughts were ugly. Conversely, he’s found lumbering labourers handsome, not for their faceplates, but for their sense of community and earnestness.

“Okay, now _he_ is pretty,” Ravage says, hopping up on the bar stool next to Soundwave. The bartender doesn’t even blink, just takes Ravage's order and makes sure to put in a straw, and that’s – it’s rare, but it’s nice. Ravage forgives the terrible lighting and the slightly sticky surfaces on that alone.

Soundwave’s dancer isn’t the only one on stage, there are a small group, and by the looks of it… Soundwave takes a peek into one of the other’s minds. Yep: entertainers from the same company, employed to race in the circuit above, and dance and chat and _entertain_ in the bars below. Soundwave uses _employed_ in only the barest sense of the word – these mecha might as well be _owned,_ though they ostensibly have a choice. The other choice is just _the streets,_ though, and surviving in a place like Nyon alone isn’t easy.

“Hm,” Soundwave says, using his mask and visor to observe surreptitiously, outwardly appearing to be gazing at the screen showing a basketrek game that’s next to the small stage, but in reality following his dancer’s every move.

Ravage turns his head to watch Soundwave, follows his gaze – not deceived by the visor – and takes a long drag from the straw, letting the fuel settle into his tanks. He very pointedly does not sigh. _Good grief._

They stay for over an hour, watching the entertainers laugh and sing and perform some rather extraordinary feats of strength and flexibility on the poles embedded in the stage.

Soundwave remains enthralled by the mind that called him here, tasting its wonderful ebbs and flows, the mech enjoying the beat of the music, the small sense of triumph when a complicated move goes off without a hitch, the vague annoyance at the way mecha try to touch when they haven’t paid for the privilege… and the vast undercurrent of righteous anger, born from injustice, born from a deep love for people, that says, burning and bright, _there must be more than this._

–

“Soundwave’s got his first crush,” is what Ravage opens with when the comm call to Laserbeak and Buzzsaw connects.

“Oh?” Buzzsaw chitters. “Tell us more!”

Ravage stretches, shifts in the rickety chair in front of the monitor in his and Soundwave’s hotel room, and says, “He’s obsessed with this – admittedly, _very_ pretty – entertainer. Mech’s _employed_ by some racing company and I swear we end up wherever he is everyday. I’ve been dragged through four different bars and two different stadiums in the past week. There’s no way he hasn't noticed us, but Soundwave just will not go up and talk to him, even when I offered the shanix to pay for a night with him.” Ravage sighs, put-upon, but still kind of amused. “He says his mind is _beautiful.”_

“Oh, my,” Laserbeak says. “Well, it had to happen eventually, right?”

Ravage hums. Then he says, soft, “Can you secure this connection?”

Laserbeak tilts his head, narrows his optics, and says, “Give me a moment.”

A couple of breems later, the connection now bouncing like a bolo-ball to various transmitters around Cybertron, Ravage says, “I think this mech might be a part of Nyon’s underground resistance movement.”

Buzzsaw clicks his beak. “Now that _is_ juicy,” he says. “Our Soundwave wants to bag himself a revolutionary?”

Ravage snorts. “I’m fairly sure the poor mech’s already bagged and tagged in Soundwave’s mind,” he says. “You know how he gets when he decides he wants something.”

Laserbeak hums. “Soundwave’s not cruel,” he puts in. “But he is stubborn. And – should this mech truly be an insurgent – well. They’ll have some things in common.”

Ravage grins, a baring of denta that most non-beastformers don’t even register as a smile. “I’ll keep you updated,” he promises.

Laserbeak and Buzzsaw bid him goodbye, and Ravage turns the monitor off. “You can stop lurking now,” he says.

Soundwave steps into the room from the attached wash-rack. “You truly think Hot Rod is an insurgent?” he asks.

“Is that his name?” Ravage asks, before shrugging, his back rippling a sinuous wave down it, all the way to the tip of his tail. “Why don’t you tell me? Since you’re marinating yourself in his mind all the time.”

Soundwave makes a thinking noise, swaying in place, shifting his weight minutely from pede to pede in a steady rhythm. “He has the temperament,” he says finally. “I think you might be right.”

Ravage squints. “You _think?”_

“His mind is – distracting.” Soundwave’s EM field ripples with a bit of embarrassment. “I have been listening to the orchestra, not trying to find a single instrument.”

“You have got it _so bad,”_ Ravage says, wishing he were disbelieving. “Soundwave, I tell you this with the best of intentions – _talk to him._ You’re not going to make friends with him by stalking him everywhere not saying a word; you’ll just make him anxious, maybe even angry.”

Soundwave’s shoulders slump as he sits down on the edge of the berth. “I don’t want him to think I’m trying to approach him as a – client,” he admits.

Ravage leaps up next to him. “So we make contact with him elsewhere,” he says, simply. “While he’s doing some resistance work, perhaps. Not in a bar. If he knows you from that first, he’ll be more inclined to believe you aren’t just trying to access his – services – without paying. The mech’ll be on the lookout for that – the Senate doesn’t make life easy for Nyonites, and shanix will be thin on the ground for him.”

“I could give him shanix,” Soundwave says, thoughtfully. “We aren’t rich, but we have connections, and we have a steady income. If he came with us, he would be comfortable. He could be happy with me.”

“Oh, _Primus,”_ Ravage groans into his front paws.

–

In the end, they call up one of Laserbeak’s contacts, who calls up a contact of his own, and several mecha down the chain later, they have an in for Nyon’s resistance movement.

The mech is a shop keeper, and the storeroom at the back has a false wall. He gives them a task – probably something ultimately inconsequential, because they have to prove their trustworthiness and skill before anything more gets revealed to them, no matter who’s vouched for them – and ushers them back out.

Ravage completes the simple infiltration and intel retrieval, leaving Soundwave to linger in a bar and watch his paramour for the evening. Over the next week, they complete the following three missions for the Nyonic resistance, and, _finally,_ get given something a bit more substantial.

The politician back in Tetrahex already has his info, and _they_ have yet more blackmail on him, so they’re free to stay as long as it takes for Ravage to get Soundwave and this mysterious Hot Rod in a conversation together. It’s too late now, he’s _invested._

Ravage knows Soundwave, knows him like his own schematics, and he has never once regretted taking the young mech in when he found him. Not just because he’s emotionally attached, even though that is the vast majority of the reason, but because Soundwave’s telepathy gives him a fantastic intuition for people and their intentions. Ravage, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw are _safe,_ safer than they’ve ever been, with Soundwave on a constant lookout for backstabbing clients, mecha with beastformer prejudices, any and everything that could bring them harm in a world so much bigger than they are.

So. If Soundwave says that Hot Rod’s got a beautiful mind, is outwardly _enamoured_ of this mech he’s never spoken to, then… Ravage is pretty sure he’s not going to have a problem with this Hot Rod, not really. Oh, he’ll make sure to put on that _hurt my mechling and I’ll hurt_ _ **you**_ show, but already he’s figuring out the logistics of feeding and housing a fifth member of their family unit.

Because Soundwave won’t leave Nyon without Hot Rod, or, at the very least, his comm number, so why drag his claws about it? His mechling is growing up, finding love and all that slag, and Ravage would extinguish his own spark before he told Soundwave that he couldn’t have love.

So here they are, waiting for a contact to meet them inside this dark warehouse, ready to hand over a data-stick. It honestly couldn’t be more cliché, but Ravage knows how these things go. They’ll be let into the real meeting places in due time, the backs of bars and such like that. Nyon has enforcers _everywhere._

Then Soundwave straightens and looks very intently in one direction, in a manner reminiscent of a cyber-hound, and Ravage flicks his audios at the sound of a mech approaching. There’s no way…

But there is. Out of the gloom, the familiar brightly-coloured frame of Hot Rod emerges. Ravage doesn’t really believe in Primus and gods and stuff like that, and if he did then they’re all due a good clawing, but – heh. Matrix blue, all right, gleaming out of the dark from a face that’s a little tense, a little surprised, but also a little relieved.

“Well, I _was_ wondering why you were hangin’ about me,” Hot Rod says as a greeting. “The data?”

Soundwave hands it over, his larger hand very carefully brushing Hot Rod’s, not enough to make it clear he’s touching and memorising the EM field, but Ravage knows he could have avoided contact entirely if he so wished. Soundwave generally prefers to, reserving his physical affection for their family unit alone.

Ravage sighs from his place, knowing that if he says nothing, then his socially awkward mechling will never say anything. “Actually,” he corrects, “while we were here on anti-Functionist business, we didn’t initially know you were involved. My mechling’s just shy about making friends.”

Hot Rod blinks. Soundwave whips around to silently stare at Ravage in mortification.

Ravage sighs again, pads up to the two of them, and says, “Soundwave, meet Hot Rod. Hot Rod, meet Soundwave. Hot Rod, Soundwave thinks you’re really cute but doesn’t want to come across as a creep even though he’s been following you literally everywhere. Soundwave, for the love of anything that might be holy, just _talk_ to this poor mech, _please.”_

Soundwave makes a wordless noise of protest, while Hot Rod gives out a startled giggle. Ravage leaves them to it, leaping up into the rafters, letting the shadows consume his frame. He doesn’t go _far,_ of course, but enough to give them a sense of privacy.

And maybe that might have been a little cruel, but – Soundwave’s always done well in sink-or-swim scenarios. And Ravage only has so much patience.

–

“So, he’s not that bad,” Ravage tells Buzzsaw and Laserbeak. “And also now a confirmed insurgent.”

Buzzsaw chitters. “And our mechling?”

“If adoration could manifest through staring alone, Hot Rod would have been crushed already,” Ravage confirms. He clicks his glossa. “He’s a sweet lil’ thing, I’ll give him that. Doesn’t deserve the lot he got given.”

Laserbeak tilts his head at Ravage. “Go on,” he says.

Ravage flicks his tail. “He showed me where there’s a detailing shop that’s open to beastformers,” he says, “and six bars, two nightclubs, several dozen shops, and a public bath house. He’s… nice. And he’s good with Soundwave.”

Buzzsaw laughs. “Anything else?”

“He listens to my stories,” Ravage admits.

Laserbeak lets out a trill. “Ravage,” he says, “you know you’ve got two mechlings now, right?”

Ravage shutters his optics. “I know,” he says, but he can’t even bring himself to make it a complaint.

“Cat Dad,” Buzzsaw chortles.

“Shut up,” Ravage grumps.

–

In the next room over, Hot Rod presses a kiss to Soundwave’s mask, letting the larger mech wrap him in his arms. His spoiler wings flutter in their placements as Soundwave runs his hand up the base of them. “What?” he asks, teasingly. “After a private dance?”

Soundwave hums, letting the flow of Hot Rod’s EM field and the bright chimes of his mind wash over him. “Whatever you like,” he says. Interface is a drive that’s always been on the tertiary priority list, for him, but if Hot Rod wants then he’s hardly going to say _no_.

Hot Rod pauses, leans back to properly look at Soundwave, and says, “You really aren’t, are you?”

Soundwave shrugs. “Interface is… not something I go seeking,” he says. “It is… undesirable, with mecha I do not care for. I would interface with you, happily, but it is by no means an expectation or priority.”

“Hm,” Hot Rod says. Then he presses a kiss to Soundwave’s mask once more and steps forward to make Soundwave sit down on the berth. He could crawl into his lap, easily, but instead he sits down next to him and curls into his side instead. Even behind the visor, he feels the weight of Soundwave’s gaze. “You really would just be happy like this, huh?”

“Very,” Soundwave says. He shuffles so that he’s lying down on the berth, Hot Rod next to him, his arms firmly around his beloved. He lets his EM field roll out in rhythmic waves. He shutters his optics behind the visor, lets himself bathe in the currents of Hot Rod’s beautiful mind beside him.

“You’re the strangest partner I think I’ve ever had,” Hot Rod says.

“Oh,” Soundwave says. “Am I… unsatisfactory?”

“No, no!” Hot Rod blurts out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Only… that I think I could be the ugliest slagger around and you’d still be here next to me. I don’t really get it.”

“It’s your mind that’s beautiful,” Soundwave says.

Hot Rod looks sceptical. Soundwave can’t see it on his face, but he can watch it bubbling in the melodies of his mind. “And how would you know that?”

“I’m a telepath. Your mind called out to me from across the city, and I had to see who had such beauty hidden within.”

“Wait, you’re _what?”_

–

“You know,” Ravage says thoughtfully, “I don’t think Hot Rod’s even been told of our Soundwave’s Outlier abilities, yet.”

“Yet,” Laserbeak repeats. “Make sure you’re there for that conversation, Ravage. Don’t let our mechlings twist themselves up in misunderstandings before they’ve even had a chance to get something properly kindling between them.”

“ _Our_ mechlings?” Ravage asks, amused.

Laserbeak sniffs. “If Hot Rod’s now one of yours, then he’s also one of ours,” he says. “We’re a family, that’s how it works.”

“Of course,” Ravage says.

“So, when’s the conjunxing ceremony?” Buzzsaw asks.

Ravage rolls his optics. “Ask Soundwave,” he says. “He’ll have already formulated a ten-step plan to getting Hot Rod to say the vows with him. You know how he is.”

“Stubborn,” Buzzsaw and Laserbeak chorus.

“Organised,” Laserbeak adds.

“A cheater,” Buzzsaw says. At the glances of the others, he continues, “What? He’s got telepathy! He can tell what Hot Rod’s thinking, how he’s feeling, how to please him and avoid upsetting him. If that’s not _cheating_ at relationships then I don’t know what is.”

“A valid point,” Ravage concedes.

–

(“Wait, so does your mind-reading extend to knowing what a partner likes in the berth?”

“It does.”

“Okay, new plan: you’re going to frag me into tomorrow, and afterwards we’ll go cause chaos at the local council office by hacking into all their systems and sending them on a run around. Functionists should be _afraid_ in Nyon, and I should still be aching with how good you’ve made me feel.”

“Is that a date?”

“Traditional Nyonite activity, so yes. It’s a date.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Tired Cat Dad Ravage gives me life, and the story of Soundwave's First Crush is going into the family annals forevermore. I... honestly don't think I've seen an IDW version of this pairing, so here y'all go, I guess.
> 
> I can also be found on [tumblr](https://stairre.tumblr.com/). Come and say hello!
> 
> (Megatron, at the conjunxing ceremony: so how did you two meet?
> 
> Soundwave: I stalked him for several weeks until we met in an abandoned warehouse and made out with each other, while my dad pretended not to watch from the rafters.
> 
> Hot Rod: what he said. also, I've got some questions about our future strategic plans, so square up, Megs.)


End file.
